


Get Me Back On Homely Ground

by StarkMan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Peter Parker, More like a prequel, Peter Parker Whump, eventual iron dad & spider son, may dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-17 06:43:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17555345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkMan/pseuds/StarkMan
Summary: Peter slid his phone back into his pocket and allowed himself to be guided into the van as well. “Is there someone we can call?” He asked gently, and Peter shook his head.





	Get Me Back On Homely Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Toying with the idea of furthering this... I have a few ideas on where to take it. Let me know what you think? 
> 
> This was quite exhausting to write, but great practice :D

Peter laughed as May pulled her coat tighter around herself, she looked pretty funny all bundled up as they made their way through the bustling crowds to find somewhere good for breakfast.  


“You burnt the food, not me, this is your fault!” She huffed and Peter shrugged. Okay, maybe it was his fault the pancakes burnt, but maybe he should have had a better batter to work with, and that was on May. They’d ditched the mess on the side and grabbed their coats to find some decent food instead. They were struggling to find somewhere who served breakfast past eleven though; they’d both had a lie-in as it was Saturday. It was unseasonably chilly for March, and they were both wrapped up in winter coats and bobble hats. May had her fingers looped around Peter’s left wrist as he led them through the crowds in the city.  


They crossed a street and Peter was about to lead them across another when the hairs on his arm lifted and goose-bumps erupted on his neck. He glanced to a commotion on his right between a shopkeeper and a patron, the customer threw his bag of oranges on the floor and started yelling in the other man's face, their argument escalating. The shopkeeper raised his voice and stepped up to the customer threateningly. He reasoned that this wasn’t a job for Peter Parker and they’d have to sort it out themselves as he'd never be able to explain a kid getting between two grown men. Peter used his arm to guide May away from the fight and to cross the road instead, and as he stepped off the pavement to follow her, there was a short screech of tyres before his left arm was yanked forwards and he watched May fly across the pavement, a yellow taxi hood replacing where May had just stood. No, no no no.  


Peter rushed forwards and vaguely registered someone shouting for an ambulance as he fell to his knees next to her. Her eyes were closed, and she was splayed on her back, nothing looked broken, he noted as he scanned her body frantically. He shook her shoulder.  


“May? Oh my god, May!” He panicked. “Come on May, open your eyes.” He pleaded. Someone was grasping his shoulder tightly, trying to pull him away.  


“Come on son, let someone help.” He allowed the man to tug him backwards, watching as someone rushed in and took his place. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. They were just getting breakfast, this wasn’t supposed to happen. There were shouts, some people crying, and a small crowd gathered around, trying to help.  


“There’s no pulse.” He heard distantly through the blood rushing in his ears. He focused his hearing on May’s chest and heard a hollow sloshing sound as a man performed CPR. He leaned up over her and continued with compressions as a blonde lady breathed for May when he stopped. She can’t be dead. Not just like that. She was alive, she was literally just there holding his wrist. There were flashing lights and sirens and he felt like he was going to scream. A lady with dark skin came over and peered into his face, anxious, as he dropped to his knees.  


“We need to call someone for you, child.” She said in a heavy African accent. “Where is your father?”  


Peter’s thoughts went immediately to Tony and he ignored the recently familiar voice telling him what a dangerous attachment he’d formed. He fumbled with his jacket pocket, his fingers numb as he stared at May’s face, still unresponsive. The lady took over for him and undid the zip on his pocket and handed over his phone with concern. Peter just stared at it until a paramedic was suddenly crouched in front of him.  


“Son, I’m so sorry. She was gone instantly though, she didn’t feel a thing,” he said gently, “we need to take her to the hospital though and sort a few things out. Can you stand up for me?” He raised his eyebrows encouragingly and Peter stood on shaky legs. He watched as they raised the stretcher and covered May’s face before lifting her into the back of an ambulance. Peter slid his phone back into his pocket and allowed himself to be guided into the van as well. “Is there someone we can call?” He asked gently and Peter shook his head.

 

He next became aware of things when he found himself sitting in a hospital corridor being introduced to a Cynthia Taylor of Child Protective Services. She seemed nice, he vaguely noticed, wearing a smart black pencil skirt and dark hair. She asked whether he had any relatives or guardians at home, and he shook his head. Tony wasn’t his guardian and he certainly wouldn’t want a kid foisted on him. He wouldn’t invite himself into Tony’s life like that, because he knew that Tony would take him. That Tony would feel obligated and responsible for him. He’d said as much after the Ferry incident. No, he shook his head.  


Cynthia guided him to her office to wait as she left for a short amount of time to make some calls, and Peter was left to wonder what would actually happen now? What happened to kids with nobody left? She returned and was able to give him an answer to that awful thought. Foster care. She’d found an apparently lovely couple who were willing to take him in temporarily. Peter just nodded.  


“Is there anything you need to get or do in your apartment?” She quietly asked him.  


“No.” He answered.  


“Okay, you can arrange a visit with your foster parents to pick up anything you need once you’re settled in, you need only ask. I’m assured that they have spare things that should see you through for the time being.”  


Another indeterminable amount of time passed in silence before there was the rapping of knuckles against the door.  


“Come in.” Cynthia called out. A round faced woman with dark hair, curlier than Peter’s entered the room and gave Peter a kind smile when she spotted him sitting down.  


“Hi, I’m Helena.”  


“Oh, wow, that was quick.” Cynthia said, getting up from her computer and shaking Helena’s hand. “Peter, this is Helena Reed, she and her husband will be taking you in for the time being, until we can find a more permanent solution.”  


“Hello, Mrs Reed.” Peter murmured.  


“Hello Peter, Helena is just fine.” She assured him. She spoke with Cynthia for a little while and signed a few papers before leading him out of the hospital and into the passenger seat of an old station wagon. “I’ve got things at the house you’re welcome to use. We have had children stay with us for years, but we have nobody there at the moment.” She explained as he blankly watched the city bustle outside. She asked him a few questions about school, and he insisted on going in Monday, much to her surprise and disapproval. She thought he ought to take some time, but he wanted to go back, and that was final. She let it drop. She explained that Chris, he doesn’t like Christopher, was in work but would be back around six. Peter glanced at the clock. 4:26. Something in his gut tugged at the realisation his life had been forever changed in the space of one afternoon.  


“Hey, honey, it’ll be okay.” Helena said as he tugged on his seatbelt. He took a deep breath, unaware he’d been holding it and tipped his head back against the headrest. He kept his eyes closed the rest of the way.  


They were further out of the city, judging by the houses, not apartment blocks around him, and he recognised a few street names. They weren’t too far from Ned’s, probably about ten minutes. The house was quaint, with a small yard at the front that looked like it needed some care. It looked homely which made Peter’s heart ache for his own back in the city. She led him inside the house, and he took in the muted orange walls, floral sofas and mismatched furniture. It looked cosy and had a similar dated theme throughout the house.  


“There are four bedrooms,” She explained as they looked around upstairs, “and this one will be yours.” She opened a door to a pale blue room. It was nicely furnished, Peter noted absently. A few items left behind by the previous occupant, but the room was tidy with freshly made sheets. “There’s are some clothes in the wardrobe that ought to fit you.” She paused and squeezed his arm. “I’ll let you get settled.” She closed the door softly behind her and Peter screwed his eyes shut tight, willing himself to wake up. Sometimes, if he’s realised it’s a dream, he can wake himself up by closing his eyes tight and wishing to wake up when he opened them. Come on, just wake up. He’ll do this morning right if he just got another try at it. He just wanted to wake up. The weight in his gut wouldn’t lift though and he recognised it from after Ben died. He crawled into the bed, pulled the covers over his head and he sobbed when he noticed the laundry smelt so foreign to him.  


A few hours later, someone knocked lightly on the door and Helena poked her head in. Peter, with great difficulty, pulled his heavy eyes from staring at the books on the shelf to Helena’s kind smile.  


“Dinner’s ready, I hope you like beef stew. Chris is home too, and he’d like to meet you so please join us.” She ducked back out of the room, he assumed so he couldn’t refuse. He hadn’t intended on it anyway, he wasn’t rude. Peter got up and went downstairs to the kitchen. Chris was a tall, thin guy with blonde hair, the opposite to Helena, but he had the same caring smile.  


He introduced himself and stood up to shake Peter’s hand, “If you’ve got any questions or wishes, just ask either of us and we’ll do our best to accommodate them. This must be frightening for you Peter, know that we are here to support you though.” He assured him. Peter just nodded in response and they sat down to eat.  


“About your schooling,” Helena said as they were finishing up, “I can call Midtown and excuse you from-"  


"No.” Peter interrupted her, and the two adults shared a look. “I mean, I like school. I want to go back.” Chris spoke instead then.  


“Perhaps some time away would do you good. Give you some time to process.” He said.  


“Perhaps keeping a routine would help.” Peter countered. “It helped when my uncle died.” He said, not liking that he brought up Ben, but it seemed to work. They glanced at each other again before reluctantly agreeing that he’d go back on Monday.  


Peter thanked Helena for the food, not that he could taste anything, but still. He’d managed most of it and that seemed to please her. He felt like he was being piloted by some outer force and his feelings had been locked up tight. He tried to think briefly of May’s face being covered over and it scared him how much he couldn’t feel. He excused himself for bed and left the kitchen. He tossed and turned all night and failed to sleep. His body was uneasy, he just wanted to sleep. Maybe if he did then he’d wake up back in his bed at home? Instead, he just spent hours wiping his wet cheeks, too numb to sob.  


At seven, heavy footfalls sounded from outside his door, crossing the hall to the bathroom. Chris was going about his day as normal, because he didn’t lose the last of his family yesterday, Peter thought, uncharitably. He checked his phone and the battery was 86% as he hadn’t used it yesterday and he was lucky he hadn’t any called or messages to respond to. He’d need to get a charger though soon, just in case. Peter got up and searched through the drawers finding an iPhone charger cable but nothing for a StarkPhone. Not that he was overly surprised, they retailed for a lot more. He’d have to go back to the apartment and pick up some stuff, but the thought of bumping into one of the neighbours made him feel sick. They’d ask how they were both doing, and he’d choke up or lose it completely. He checked his wallet in his jacket pocket and found a few bills amongst coupons. That would do for now, he could get himself a charger with that. That plan was brought to a stop though when he realised that in order to return to school tomorrow, he’d need his school stuff in the apartment. He’d have to go back today.  


Chris went to the shop for some groceries and Helena drove him to the apartment. Fortunately, nobody had seen them on their way to the apartment and he unlocked the door with shaky hands. Helena had come up with him to give a hand with some bags –he obviously couldn’t tell her that he had enhanced strength– and they stepped into the apartment. He avoided looking towards the kitchen where they’d dumped the ruined breakfast, towards May’s red tartan throw over the back of the sofa and her shoes in a heap by the door.  


He left Helena and went straight to his room. Using a large sports bag, he stuffed in a few comfier items of clothing, hoodies and sweats, his extra books for school and grabbed his usual backpack for school. He stuffed in underwear and a few toiletries from the bathroom into a separate bag and hesitated for a brief second before pulling out his Spiderman suit from the wardrobe and stuffing it into the bottom of the bag, just moments before Helena knocked and came in.  


“Don’t forget to bring a suit if you’ve got one,” She said, giving him a sad smile. “For the funeral. We can fit you into one of Chris’ though if you don’t.”  


“I have.” He said curtly and she left him to it. He drew out the suit that Tony had gotten him for the Stark Industries Budding Talent Gala from the wardrobe. May had been so proud of him when he’d stood in front of a crowded room and explained his web-fluid –obviously not called web-fluid– and its properties that would make serious advancement in medicine. He folded it as best as he could, zipped up and grabbed his bags, then hauled them into the living area.  


Helena was tying a trash bag in the kitchen. “What are you doing?” He snapped, startling her.  


“Just tidying the rubbish, Peter.” She clarified, raising her hands. “It’ll spoil and then there’ll be rats and flies in here. It’s just the food.”  


“Yeah, well don’t touch it.” He said heatedly. How dare she touch May’s stuff? She had no right to move any of her things, or even be in here.  


“I’m sorry, Peter, I should have asked you first.” Helena looked a little upset and Peter’s anger vanished. What was that? That wasn’t like him at all. He shook his head wearily.  


“I just want to go.” He admitted and Helena nodded. Nothing was how it should be, and it was ruining the memories he had of his home, with May. They both left in silence. 

 

When they got back, Chris was unpacking the groceries in the kitchen and called them through for a chat. They sat around the small table and Peter speculated whether Helena had somehow called ahead and told Chris of his rudeness and that he was about to be kicked out. He briefly wondered who he’d go to next, and his mind flittered to Tony for a quick second before Chris spoke.  


“I understand this is difficult for you.” Chris said. “I can’t imagine how you feel right now, but we wanted to let you know that dealing with arrangements is better done sooner rather than later.” Helena nodded beside him and Peter was confused.  


“Funeral arrangements.” She clarified and the smallest bit of comfort he’d had from thinking of Tony, vanished. “We will organise it for you, but we need to know a few things. Her favourite flowers, music and whether she’d want a cremation or burial? Those sorts of things.”  


He didn’t know. He had no idea what her favourite flowers were, or anything that she’d want. What did that say about them, about Peter? He was so self-absorbed that he’d never thought to ask. He struggled to pull in air and Chris came around the table to try and comfort him. He squeezed his shoulder, but it was all wrong. His hands were larger than Tony’s and he hated it. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted Tony. No, what he really wanted was May, but she wasn’t going to comfort him ever again. He pushed the chair back, stumbled out of the room and he was so glad when they didn’t follow. He crawled under the covers and tried to slow his breathing, but ended up in a gasping, sobbing mess.

He woke up suddenly, feeling off kilter, and it took a few minutes to realise where he was, why his eyes were puffy and come to the realisation that this was his life now. He needed to sort his school bag for tomorrow and to also tell Ned and MJ what had happened. He opened his text messages to Ned. He should tell him now, before he goes in tomorrow and has to watch Ned’s face in that moment. Could he even tell him? He doubted it. He couldn’t even think the words. What if MJ makes some sort of joke before he’s said anything, and he just loses it in front of the school? He typed it out a few times and deleted them. There is no possible way for that sentence not to sound like some sick joke.  


He looked at his last messages to Tony instead, about coming to the tower this Thursday to work in the lab. The Peter of a few days ago had been thrilled, using an embarrassing amount of exclamation marks, being a clingy little kid. Tony had replied with enthusiasm though, obviously humouring him. Peter flung his phone in a sudden burst of anger and it bounced off the wall, still intact. Tony made good phones. He gave up with the message, he’d deal with it tomorrow at school.

 

Chris had left earlier than Peter the next morning and Helena gave him money for the bus with a ‘good luck’ and promise to pick him up if he wanted, he just needed to call. She didn’t mention their conversation last night and he was grateful, he felt on edge about school as it was. He briefly entertained the thought of staying in bed for the day but dismissed it. He couldn’t just stop. It didn’t work like that; he’d tried that after Ben had died and the world refused to stop turning with him. Peter sat with his hood up and rode the bus in silence, not making eye contact with anyone who might question why he was on this bus route now. His stomach twisted as he stepped off at school and spotted Ned at the main doors. He wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or not that Ned hadn’t seen him step off the bus.  


“Hey, Peter,” Ned gave him a wave as he walked over. “Did you manage the last question on the Chem homework?” He asked and Peter shook his head. “I was gonna text you, but my mom had friends over and she wanted me to be sociable. Said we’d get carried away.” He pulled a face and Peter opened his mouth, but the words just wouldn’t come out. May is dead. I’m not at home. Anything to start the conversation? Nothing. Before he knew it, the bell had rung, MJ had joined them, and they were making their way to first period. The day passed without Peter even being aware of anything other than that he nodded and answered a few questions, and he had an after-school detention for missed Chemistry homework. He waved a listless goodbye to Ned as he climbed into his mom’s car and backtracked once they’d left to his bus. On the journey back to Helena and Chris’ –it wasn’t his home– he came to the curious realisation that he’d made it through the day without having to announce to anyone that he was now a proper orphan.  


He told Helena he had a decathlon practice on Thursday, rather than a detention, and she agreed to pick him up. He figured he’d actually done well to get through the day at all but then he woke at five in the morning, crying as he tried to remember the smell of May’s perfume from his dream and couldn’t go back to sleep.

Thursday rolled around and he texted Tony that he couldn’t make it as he had an impromptu decathlon practice. Impromptu as Tony likely had his schedule memorised, and a detention would have Tony calling him. He didn’t think he could outright lie to the man, he’d tell him eventually, he just couldn’t right now. Apart from a few concerned looks from Ned, Ned and MJ still had no idea. As he was sat in detention, his mind went to one spring when they’d gone to Coney Island and May had picked daffodils she’d seen. He told Helena ‘daffodils’ when she picked him up and she smiled sympathetically.  


Peter was sat slouched, pretending to watch TV while Helena attempted another conversation about the funeral. Peter only gave a few wishes on some songs May used to play in the apartment. She’d been a fan of Elton John and so he chose Candle in the Wind to play as she was brought into the church. He ultimately left it up to Helena to arrange, though. There were silly things like the order of the service and seating arrangements that he had no wish to go over. The funeral would be on Monday, it was eventually decided. He nodded distantly at Helena, eyes on the telly.  


Before he knew it, it was Monday and he was buttoning up his suit and sent a text cancelling his lab session that afternoon with Tony. He’d offered on Thursday evening, just as Peter got let out of detention and Peter had said yes at the time, but with the funeral, he just didn’t think he’d be able to keep up the façade in front of the man today. Tony didn’t reply to this cancellation and Peter felt inexpressibly lonely. He looked at himself in the mirror and felt so exposed and vulnerable. In a spark of idea, he stripped off the suit and put on his Spiderman suit from Tony. He carefully put the suit back on over the top. The technical fabric was fitted snugly against his skin and he felt comforted. He’d need to be brave today. Spiderman was always brave.  


Chris had booked the day off work and called in to excuse Peter from school and Peter knew he ought to feel incredibly grateful to these people, but he just felt an irrational anger simmer in his gut as they all sat in the car. They didn’t know May, he didn’t want them there. He didn’t want anyone there and he certainly didn’t want to be there and saying goodbye to May. He closed his eyes and breathed as they pulled up outside the church. He pushed the resentment down and got out of the car, eager to get this day over with. He shook hands with people, most he’d never met in his life, and nodded at their condolences while feeling himself going numb. It seemed easier to deal with it this way.  


They took their seats and the service started with Elton John’s emotive voice. His hearing picked up people shuffling about, some sniffing and the heavy doors opening as a straggler made their way in. He refused to acknowledge anything other than the polished coffin in front of the pews though. May was inside. This was really happening.  


He couldn’t describe what had happened throughout, someone had gotten up to speak and they’d sung a hymn or two, but other than that, the next thing he was aware of was Chris’ arm nudging him.  


“C’mon Peter it’s over, time to go and say thank-you to those who attended.” He said coaxing him to stand and lead the way out.  


“I don’t want to speak to people.” He mumbled, still sat down. Helena shot Chris a reproachful look and leaned over.  


“That’s okay, darling, you don’t have to. We’ll do that. How about waiting in the car instead? We can see whether you’re up to visiting the graveside afterwards.” She suggested and he nodded, getting up and putting his head down low. He made a beeline for the doors and felt the numbness melt away as he rushed to get out and images of May next to Ben in the ground stole his breath. She wasn’t coming back, she really wasn’t, and he wasn’t waking up. He’d put her into the path of that car and now he was burying her because he was too damn stupid to know what he was doing. The heavy door was halfway swinging shut as someone had left just before him and he shouldered it open. He clutched at his tie in an attempt to get some air and almost fell down the front steps as he stumbled against the railing. He caught a brief glimpse of a black suit as he actually tripped and strong hands grabbed his upper arms and hauled him up and against a solid chest.  


“I’ve got you.” He knew that voice. “Breathe, Pete, I’ve got you.” Peter’s breath stuttered as he clung onto the back of a suit jacket and took a deep breath of expensive cologne. His brain registered safety with that smell and he obligingly hauled in more comforting air.  


Eventually, Peter became aware of Tony’s hand on the back of his head, carding his hair, the man’s heart beating a faster rhythm than normal and the sounds of people leaving the church, muttering. He tensed up as words floated over, saying what a poor kid he was, how unfortunate.  


“It’s okay, they’ll leave you alone, they’re going.” Tony murmured quietly. Peter pulled away slightly and Tony slowly dropped his hand from his head. “Kid,” he breathed, “why didn’t you call me?” Peter raised his eyes and was taken aback by the worry in Tony’s.  


“I’m sorry, I just-" He shrugged helplessly and felt his eyes fill.  


“It’s okay, never mind, we’ll sort this. You’re coming with me.” He guided Peter around the church to the parking lot where he opened his car door and gently pushed Peter to sit inside. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, just need to speak with your… guardians.” He fleetingly made a face. Peter allowed him to close the door and rested his head against the window. In the quiet of the car, he let the tears that had been threatening, finally come.  


A short while later, Tony tapped on the glass before opening the door. Peter wiped at his face with his jacket sleeve and took in the tight lines around Tony’s eyes, Helena and Chris standing behind him, looking concerned.  


“Pete, how do I know you?” He asked and Peter looked between them all, seeing Chris and Helena’s unease.  


“It’s okay,” he assured them, sniffing, “I’m Mr Stark’s intern. May was cool with it, she trusted him. So do I.”  


“I hope you understand Mr Stark, that we are responsible for him, Peter is in our care-” Chris stressed, watching Tony uncertainly.  


“And also spends time in mine.” Tony interrupted, “I’ve shown you pictures of him at the tower, I’m no stranger to him. I’ll have my lawyers draw up paperwork and be in contact. He should be staying with me.” Tony said with finality and Peter’s breath hitched. “Why didn’t you mention this, Peter? They said you’d said you had nobody available to take you?” Tony’s jaw tightened at that, something he only did when he was particularly stressed. Was he angry at Peter?  


“I just… didn’t want to put this on you.” He mumbled and Tony sighed.  


“That’s because you’re apparently unaware that when I say to call me for anything, I mean it. That when I say your room at the tower is yours, I mean it. When I tell you it’s not a bother to answer your calls at three in the morning, I mean it.” Tony said forcefully, the emotion in his eyes and the strain in his voice took Peter by surprise and his tears spilled over again.  


“I’m sorry.” He whispered.  


Tony closed his eyes and shook his head. “It’s done now. Or at least it will be.” He turned to the others. “If you don’t mind, we need to go home. I’ll send someone for his things later today.” They nodded, bewildered, and Peter finally felt gratitude towards them.  


“It was lovely having you, Peter.” Helena said earnestly and Chris nodded and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  


“Thank you, for arranging everything and having me.” Said Peter, giving them a watery smile. Tony climbed into the driver’s seat next to him and started the Audi.  


“It was no problem. Good luck Peter, things will turn out okay, don’t you worry.” He glanced over at Tony who shoved a pair of sunglasses on. Yeah, he had a little more faith now.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want to do the whole 'Peter goes straight to Tony route', and wanted to practice writing something different so this is more like a prequel to a series with total Tony & Peter content.  
> I have a few ideas on where to take it, though it won't be a straightforward journey for them. Just let me know if it's worth my time? Thinking a couple of fics as a series, most probably from Tony's POV. Many thanks x


End file.
